


Hope Is All You Have

by writtenndust



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 17:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15890613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenndust/pseuds/writtenndust
Summary: Every day, she did this.





	Hope Is All You Have

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the first 46 days in the bunker. Abby won't talk to Marcus, but she can't let him go either.

Marcus had found that, his seat in the corner of the mess hall was the ideal place to feign people-watching, as he looked out for Abby, picking absently at his protein-rich, tasteless meal. She hadn’t spoken to him in weeks, a few clipped answers here or there was all he got, she never let their lack of communication fraction the meetings with Octavia and the other leaders though, she never let their personal issue interfere. He couldn’t entirely say the same.

But she sat and ate with Jackson, her back turned to where she knew Marcus sat; often with Thelonious, often alone.

He moved his food around with his fork, unable to stomach the thought of a life without Abby talking to him, let alone the bland food on his plate. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret saving her life, he wouldn’t.

There was only one time of the day (or night, who knew, they had no windows) when she offered him the smallest wisp of a hope that things would get better. He watched her get up from the table, she leaned over to kiss Eric’s cheek and squeeze his shoulder before she made her way over to the kitchen and dropped off her tray to be cleaned.

He forgot about his food, as her eyes found him in the darkest corner - Thelonius and Ethan had long since, gone off to bed and he was sitting alone, shifting peas around a metal tray, wishing she’d understand.

His skin crackled and charged with heat the closer she came, that boundless electricity he always felt when she was in the room, moving closer and closer still. Jackson was watching, he always did and Marcus wondered if there was a touch of hope in him as well.

“I’m going to bed,” she stated, matter-of-factly, with a cool quietness that made his heart tighten. He didn’t answer, just nodded his head slowly and watched her walk out the door.

Every day, she did this.

At first, Marcus wasn’t entirely sure why. She wasn’t talking to him, the mere sight of him made her jaw clench. But every evening, after their meal, she’d announce her intentions like he was somehow supposed to do something with the information, he just didn’t know what.

The first week or so, nothing had come of it. He found himself laying sleepless in a room where Jaha snored and Ethan made little sounds like whimpers in his sleep.

It was on the third day of the second week, that he realised what was going on. 

The room was dark, the only light shining in from the small window in the door and it was quiet in the halls beyond, most of the bunker was asleep. He was surprised though, when a small crack of light crept across the floor and touched his boot before it disappeared again, and he could hear movement, the shuffle of feet across the harsh concrete floor then, in the darkness, he felt small hands press into his side. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch or let on that he was awake - he knew it was her, he could smell the lavender.

He watched her walk away. Out the door and around the corner, before he lifted his tray and gave up on his meal. He knew Jackson was watching him but he didn’t turn his head, just dutifully followed her, as he had done every night since the first.

“Abby, I -” his voice was cut off as he stepped into the room and felt a blanket violently impact his face. So they still weren’t talking. He didn’t say another word.

He watched as Abby climbed into her little bed, below the bunk that Nyla slept in. The other woman wasn’t there at the moment, she’d stopped being there at this time of night for weeks. Marcus didn’t question it.

He just stood there, clutching his blanket and watching her kick off her boots and snuggle down into her pillow. He stood there a little longer, just waiting - for what, he didn’t really know. She wasn’t going to speak to him, she didn’t want to talk about what he’d done to save her. He’d wronged her, he knew that, but everything he’d done for her he’d done for love and every night he’d spent without her had been torture.

She stretched her hand out behind her, just waiting and without a moment’s hesitation, he took it and climbed in the bed behind her. He wrapped his arms around her, his nose pressed into her hair, he felt her back press against his chest as she released a long sigh. This was home, this was peace. This was the one thing neither of them seemed able to give up, no matter how much pain they caused each other.

“I love you, Abby,” he whispered into the darkness.

She didn’t answer, but the grip she had on his hand against her chest, tightened just enough to give him hope.

 

The End.


End file.
